


Date Night

by AuriKitty



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28065399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriKitty/pseuds/AuriKitty
Summary: Neighbors!AU Z is doing something he's never done before.It's fluffy and cute. I can't do sad all the time.
Relationships: Zyrean/Moxley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1
Collections: Sin Bin DnD





	Date Night

It is now half past four, and Z still hasn't asked her out yet.

Well, he did _have_ a plan to ask her when she got off from school, but things just didn't go as planned. 

When she comes home at noon, his tea kettle threatens to boil over. In his first time naivete, he touches the metal lid, trying to stop it from whistling. It hurt - a lot - and he's officially done with trying to make tea by himself. He'll have Mox's tea though. It always fills him with a warmth that went down smooth and steady.

At quarter past two, she's started her shower .The sounds of water rushing and knobs squeaking cause Z to look from the bedroom closet to the open door of the bathroom. Soft melodies of her singing slowly ebbs away the tight line of his frustration. He mulls over his options of what to wear as he sings softly along to the faint tune of an upbeat song. 

He chooses the brown leather jacket, white top, and a pair of dark jeans. 

It's half-past three, and he's considering bringing her something to eat. His favorite moments with her is when they get take-out and just shoot the shit talking about nothing in particular. He dreams about that smile - wide, beautiful, and filled with future promises and late nights. Every moment he spends with her, he learns something new of her, igniting a small flame inside of him to know more. When it's dark, and they have to say good night, there's a pause, a brief moment that their hearts connect and beg for a moment longer together. 

Then, the moment is broken as he says good night and walks her out.

It is now half past four, and Z is standing outside her door, hand raised, paused at the ready. Until today, he never felt the cliché words of his heart pounding at a soft but intense rhythm. His palms sweat, and he takes a moment to rub them against the fabric of his jeans before raising his hand again. His cheeks are hot, a mix of embarrassed, flustered and excited.

It isn't the first time that he asked her out - a few dates being stargazing under the stars or hanging out at a cafe only a few blocks from here. Those times were simple - he wasn't asking for anything other than her companionship and her presence. Opening himself up those times often proved to be difficult, but she touched at the hardened walls of his heart, and he grew soft.

So this should be easy, should be simple, and god, she's probably looking at him from the peephole being an absolute mess, isn't she? Probably watching him get flustered from his thoughts, pace the small area of her apartment door, only to return to start it all over again. That being said, he hopes that she wouldn't take pity on him; he wants to do this for himself under no false pretenses or 'I was just walking by's.

Z takes a soft breath, raises his hand and hears the voice of his conscience, telling him to "Do it." It sounds vaguely of her.

With a few swift raps to the door, he waits, and it feels like hours. God, it might be hour or mere seconds, but his fingers itch to knock again in a sense of desperation. Rubbing a ringed hand over his face, he groans. 

He's never had to do this: interested parties always came to him. The only part he thought about was if he was saying yes. But this? This was hell and heaven all at once.

Z stares at the door, then raises his hand to knock once more, but then hears the muffled, "Coming!" and his heart jumps. It's as if every plan he's come up with abandons ship, leaving him vacant and alone and with a beautiful woman coming to the door. He scrambles for his phone in his pocket, but it's in the tight pocket of his jeans, barely budging. In a litany of curses, he's barely able to pull his phone out and go to the Notes app before the door opens and he hears:

"Z?"

His heart flutters at the sound of his name coming from her lips. 

Now, he's looking down at her. She's there, Mox, there in the doorway, white hair, blue eyes, that gorgeous smile - god, she _knew_ , didn't she? Her eyes twinkles with a speck of amusement as she holds onto the edge of the door.

"Hey," his voice cracks, and he clears his throat and tries again. "Hey, so, I was wondering if you're you…busy right now?"

Nice. Good lead there, Z.

"I-I mean," he stammered, taking a deep breath, hating the lack of composure he had. "If you are busy, then that's fine, but I was hoping that you'd come with me to an open mic tonight."

That seems to surprise her. On some days, they would just stumble into an open mic, listening to poetry and music that came through indie artists and lost souls. There were those that were a little hard on the ears, but some good music came out of there. He remembered being surprised the first time that Mox jumped on stage, singing and harmonizing along to a song, becoming a welcome and captivating stage presence.

And as he listened along to the sounds of her voice traveling over the stereo, and the way that his chest inflated in pride and his smile with happiness, that's when he knew.

"Open mic?" She says, then nods without skipping a beat. He doesn't miss the way she looked him over, and it's what spurred him to say the next words, written down somewhere in the deep crevices of his brain.

"As a date," he quickly supplies, and Mox looks at him, in an emotion that he couldn't recognize. Was that... excitement? "Not as friends, because, well, you…" And she just smiles at him and nods. This time, he's grateful for the interruption because if he can get back to his normal way of speaking without babbling, that would be great.

"Let me just go change into something comfortable," she says, motioning for him to come into the apartment as she had done many times before, but as he crosses that barrier, it's different. It's as if he passes the longing stares and unspoken words. In fact, he hopes that tonight will give a clear understanding of what he wanted.

* * *

Their walk to the venue is addled with playful banter as the cold nipped at their cheeks, reminding them of the winter months coming soon. In a little hovel at the end of an alleyway, The Bird's Nest's blue neon sign glows faintly, well lit, but still ambiguous to the public eye. A few people with cased instruments are hanging out around the steps, smoking and sharing a few beers. 

Z makes an off-handed comment about hipsters needing their privacy, and Mox laughs as he takes her hand and leads her down the steps to the bar. He doesn't let go, even though The Bird's Nest is rarely busy. There's tables and chairs in front of a main stage with dim lighting shining down on a singular microphone. Off to the side there's a bar, a sole bartender, and five people chatting and sharing a beer together. Nothing special.

There's some tables empty, and he's a bit disappointed to see that the tables closest to the stage are already taken. Still he walks to the table a little ways off to the right, but with a good view of the stage.

"Anyone in particular playing tonight?" She asks and Z shakes his head. Not that he heard of, usually it's just starting musicians and upcoming poets. 

"No," he says honestly, pulling out her chair. He hopes she doesn't see it as annoying. She knows she's capable of doing it herself, but he'll be a gentleman for tonight. He leans down and says, "I'm going to get you a beer."

When she nods, he walks over to the bar, raising his hand to ask for a cold glass and beer. While he's there, he looks behind him, and sees her and it fills him with just a little bit more…something.

He hopes she likes tonight.

Coming back to give her beer, he kisses the side of her head without a thought. Says, "I'll be back and slips off around the side archway. He thinks about the way that her skin felt under his lips and how she smelled of wood and amber.

He hopes he can feel her skin against his again.

So, he does something crazy. He does something that he's never done before. 

He gets up on that stage, holding his ten year old acoustic guitar, his heart beating wildly out of his chest. There's the occasional snaps as he comes up and gets ready. He avoids Mox's eyes as much as he can. He doesn't want to crack on the first song, or rather, her song.

He adjusts the microphone to be leveled to his seat, and then he speaks.

"I, well, I heard this song and it reminds me… of a girl I like, so enjoy." There's a chorus of snaps, and he clears his throat. Then he plays the opening tunes of "Hands Down" before leaning in to finally sing. 

_Breathe in for luck,_

_Breathe in so deep,_

_This air is blessed,_

_You share with me._

_This night is wild,_

_So calm and dull,_

_These hearts they race,_

_From self control._

He takes a minute, licking his lips as he finally searches for Mox then he gets to the chorus and then it clicks, everything aligns, and he sings these words with so much passion that it nearly scares him, at how strongly he felt it.

_My hopes are so high,_

_That your kiss might kill me._

_So won't you kill me,_

_So I die happy._

_My heart is yours to fill or burst,_

_To break or bury,_

_Or wear as jewelry,_

_Whichever you prefer._

He's receiving a few bobbing heads, a few people who are snapping along to the acoustic version of his song that reminds him of the woman he was trying to impress. He lowers his voice, almost as if he singing directly to her, and his eyes catch hers, even in the dim lighting.

_The words are hushed._

_Let's not get busted;_

_Just lay entwined here, undiscovered._

_Safe from the hour and all the stupid questions_

_"Hey did you get some?"_

_Man, that is so dumb._

_Stay quiet, stay near, stay close they can't hear_

He chuckles lowly, smirked suggestively, taking a minute to run his hands through his hair, loosening it from the ponytail. His red hair falls over his face, and he leans over the guitar and says into the microphone. 

_So we can get some._

He follows it back to the chorus, feeling more comfortable in his skin, only to slow down at the ending of the song, saying the words almost as if he was too flustered to say it. But he realizes that this is what he wants.

_We stood at your door with your hands on my waist_

_And you kissed me like you meant it._

_And I knew that you meant it, that you meant it._

He hears the applause that follows after he strums the last chord. His fingers are burning, but the pain dulls in comparison to her smile. 

She's smiling. That's a good thing, right? Of course it's a good thing. Good, because if there was any other emotion on her face, he might've ran out the back.

He gets his guitar and slowly goes off the stage. He packs it in the case he brought earlier today thanking the owners for letting him store it and practice there. They just grin, whistle and tell him to go get the girl.

God, he sure hopes so. Hand clutched on his acoustic case, he's rounded back around to go back to the table, but Mox meets him in the archway.

"Well," she says amused, but with an emotion he hadn't quite heard before. "When were you going to tell me you could do that?"

He simply smiles and shrugs. "You never asked."

It is a reference to their first night together, where he gave her free reign as whatever she wanted. It was now that he realized that there's so much he didn't know about her, but that he wanted to. He can only hope that she wanted to learn more about him too. 

But he did learn how it felt to have her lips against his against his the moment they got back to the apartment, him with his hands on her waist and her with her fingers crawling and grabbing at the locks of his hair. 

He learns that she tastes of rosehip and hibiscus. 


End file.
